Ranger Company D in Realtos, Texas, 1887
Sitting l-r: B. Bell, C. Aten, Capt. Frank Jones, Walter Durbin, John Robinson, F. Schmitt
Standing:  J. King, Bass Outlaw, R. Boston, Charles Fusselman, T. Durbin, E. Rogers, C. Barton, W. Jones

In the early years of statehood, Texas had an awful time protecting its citizens from the denizens of death roaming the countryside. If the Indians and Mexican weren’t dealing destruction on a wide scale, Anglo outlaws and bandits were. A newcomer to the western fringe could practically count on being attacked, and it took someone with a special sort of courage to propose pioneering anywhere outside the most heavily populated settlements. Although Texas never had a large enough army or militia to adequately patrol the frontier, it did have a roving band of dedicated gunmen sworn to uphold the law. Called Texas Rangers, these men went everywhere their adversaries did, living out of the saddle and off the land, riding their quarry to ground. Many captured badmen would whine that the Rangers would rather shoot first and then tell a man to put up his hands. As an independent law enforcement agency, they were the most controversial, and most fabled, lawmen in the history of the United States.

The Rangers were as much villains as they were heroes, and it’s often difficult to distinguish the difference. Heroes such as Ben McCulloch, Big Foot Wallace, Jack Hays, and Leander McNelly actually did ride through Texas using brutal tactics to tame the frontier, but at a time when one’s future was only as quick as his draw, citizens wanted the fastest gun-shark they could find as their protector. It was when the gun-shark Ranger turned wolf that things got bad.

Bass L. Outlaw turned wolf, although it has been rumored that he came from a good family in Georgia. No one knows when he was born, or even if Outlaw was his real name, but he was without question one of the most dangerous men in Texas at that time. Most of his Ranger associates believed that he fled Georgia to Texas after killing a man, but the truth may never be know. He was a mystery man with the reputation of a killer. He had a good education and refined manners, qualities most Ranger captains looked for in their men, but he was also as tough as leather and an amazingly good shot.

Outlaw really wasn’t much to look at. He was below average height, slim and wiry, with pale blue-gray eyes, receding chin, and brown hair. Despite his slight frame, or perhaps because of it, he was fearless. Everyone who knew him said he could whip his Colt out so fast that one could hardly see the movement. That sort of lightning ability should have endeared him to many, but with his surly disposition and quick temper, he had few friends.

In 1885, Outlaw answered the call for men to reinforce Company E along the Lampasas corridor. The frontier had practically ceased to exist by that time, and with the invention of barbed wire in 1873, the western plains, or Trans-Pecos portion of Texas, gradually became settled. Though the day of free grass was about over, many cattlemen were loath to accept the fact. They seized their wire-cutters and started a fence-cutters’ war. The trouble became so acute that Governor John Ireland called the legislature into a special session to pass a law making fence-cutting a felony. This law also provided that the cattlemen should leave gates every three miles and forbade them from "fencing in" the nesters, who were spotting the place with shanties, dugouts, and large families. Along with the fence-cutters came the train robbers. Although it was a mess for the Rangers, the situation was just right for Outlaw.

In 1887, he transferred to the even more brutal territory of Company D in the Big Bend under Captain Frank Jones. Captain Jones was a young man, although how much younger than Outlaw is not known. He was born in Austin, and on 28 July 1881, shortly after his twenty-first birthday, he enlisted in the Ranger service as a private in Company D. His bravery and talents soon won him a speedy promotion to corporal, then sergeant, and finally captain on 15 July 1886. He was absolutely fearless and insisted that the men around him be the same. Outlaw’s reputation for bravery was well-known, and Captain Jones needed brave men for patrolling the bandit trails along the Rio Grande. It was the home of the big ranches, and there were problems galore. It was probably during these years with Captain Jones that Outlaw became more a gunman than a lawman. It may have had something to do with the nature of the men he pursued or the harshness of the terrain he patrolled or the heat of the area where he lived or even his small size, but whatever the cause, he was as bad-tempered, grudge-holding, and quarrelsome as they come. Wherever he went, he was sure to end up rowing with the people that he was sent to protect.

In the summer of 1889, Captain Jones asked for three rangers to volunteer for a job which offered less than an even chance of returning alive. His brother-in-law Bill Grady was working at the Fronteriza silver mines at Sierra del Carmen in the state of Coahuila, Mexico. The mine had plenty of rich ore, but the miners had been unable to transport the silver bullion to the rail head 160 miles away. Mexican outlaws laid in wait to butcher the guards and make off with the shipments, valued anywhere from sixty thousand to one hundred thousand dollars. In sheer desperation, Grady had asked Captain Jones to find "three of the toughest men in Texas" to convoy the shipments. Bass Outlaw and fellow Rangers Joseph Walter Durbin, the company’s sergeant, and John Reynolds Hughes volunteered for the dangerous job. The three men had worked for two years on remote scouts together and were well-acquainted with each other’s abilities. Durbin and Hughes were also probably the only Rangers Bass Outlaw called friends. The plan was for them to resign from the Ranger service for their stay in Mexico and to re-enlist in Company D when they returned. During their absence, Walter Durbin recommend Charles Fusselman be made Sergeant, and Captain Jones complied.

Outlaw was well-known for his drinking and given to acts of violence when intoxicated. Drinking was never allowed in any of the Ranger camps, and the Rangers were not allowed into towns to become drunk, especially when they were on duty. They were given "off time" for relaxation, but they were expected to maintain the decorum of the service at all times, only Outlaw seldom adhered to the rules. Before the three men left for Mexico, Captain Jones pulled John Hughes aside and issued a warning. "You know as well as I do how mean Bass gets when he’s drinking. You’ll have to watch him. If he starts trouble over there, you’ll all face a firing squad." Hughes understood only too well his Captain’s warning. Outlaw was a brave man and a great fighter, but when he was drunk, he was pure hell.

News of the Rangers preceded their arrival in Mexico, and because the Mexican bandits lived in fear of "Los Tejanos Diablos," the first trip from the mine to the rail head at Barroteran was without incident. The only signs of habitation on the whole 160 mile trip was one small village containing less than fifty people. It took about six weeks to make the first trip, mostly because the countryside was all new territory to the Ranger escort, and about a month to make the second. All during these days, Hughes dogged Outlaw’s footsteps, but the little Ranger never touched a drop. After the third trip without incident, the Rangers were given a few days of rest at the mine..

The moment Hughes relaxed his vigilance, Outlaw got into trouble. Hearing a pistol shot, Durbin and Hughes raced to the mine store to find Outlaw, totally drunk, a pistol in each hand, threatening a group of miners lined against one wall with their hands in the air. On the floor in front of him lay a dead workman. When Outlaw finally backed out the door, Hughes and Durbin managed to pinion him, forcing Outlaw to drop his weapons, but the little Ranger still fought. His friends were forced to knock him on the head with a revolver to subdue him.

Expecting angry miners to attack, seeking revenge, the Rangers hauled the unconscious Outlaw to their shack, piled their weapons and a big stack of ammunition on a table, and waited for developments. They did not have long to wait. A small group of men approached the cabin, and one of the men called out that Outlaw had killed a man highly disliked by his fellow workers. It was sheer luck that Outlaw had not killed a popular hero. As soon as he sobered, Outlaw told his friends that he had acted in self-defense, that the worker had threatened him with a knife. Although they made two more trips to the rail head for the mine owner before the mine closed and the Rangers returned to Texas, Hughes never again let his guard down.

While Outlaw, Hughes, and Durbin were acting as guards in Mexico, Captain Jones was busy tracking a ruthless gang of train robbers. The worst areas were the remote sections along the border where, because of the proximity to Mexico, it was a simple matter for the bandits to cross the Rio Grande and disappear out of the Rangers’ jurisdiction. It was also a prime area for stock theft, and many bandits practiced at both occupations. On the trail of Southern Pacific train robbers in September 1889, which had occurred at a horseshoe curve east of Sanderson and had netted the thieves about $60,000 from the express car, Captain Jones and a handful of his men tracked the bandits across the Rio Grande, where the bandits scattered. By following one trail south for about ten miles, the Rangers found where the bandits all came back together again. They then followed the outlaws for another eight miles to where they again scattered. This scattering and coming together was an old outlaw trick to throw off any pursuit. After several more miles, the band crossed back into Texas and reversed their direction of travel. Along the way, the bandits even unshod their horses.

On the fifth day of the search, the Rangers found where the band had re-shod their horses, and a day later, they found their camp in a canebrake about one hundred miles south of Marathon. Unable to look through the dense cane and deeming it too dangerous to scout on foot, they set it on fire and closed in as it burned. The Rangers found a camp that had been there for several months with quite a lot of plunder lying about, including three saddles of men who must have been murdered, but the outlaws had scattered at the first smell of smoke. The camp was on the Mexican side of the river with the stolen stock on the Texas side, and Captain Jones determined that the only way the Mexican authorities could get to the camp would have been to cross to the Texas side of the river, something the Mexican authorities were loath to do. Captain Jones knew it was just a matter of time before the Rangers would get the outlaws. One month later, he ran them to ground, but the money was not found.

At about this same time, Outlaw, Hughes, and Durbin returned to Texas, where Outlaw and Hughes re-enlisted in Company D and became corporals, and Walter Durbin went to Pearsall where he married and settled down, soon becoming Sheriff of Frio County. At that time, a Ranger company had a captain, a sergeant, and a corporal for its officers, doing away with the position of lieutenant, and the rest of the men were privates or simply "Rangers." Being a corporal carried no increase in pay, but it did give rank when they were on scouts. Often drinking to excess, Outlaw became difficult to control. His ability as a killer had not been lessened by his stay in Mexico, and within a year, he killed three men in the line of duty.

One of the first orders of business after being promoted to Corporal was to round up a certain gang of cattle rustlers, who had raided a ranch and killed a man who had foolishly tried to save the stock. Alvin and Will Odle were the gang leaders, and their hide-out was across the Rio Grande in Mexico, situated in such a position in the mountains that a surprise attack was impossible. Learning that the cowboy brothers were planning on returning to Texas for a Christmas party at Barksdale, Corporals Outlaw and Hughes, and Sergeant Ira Aten, along with local Deputy Will Terry, laid an ambush at a spot near the little settlement of Vance. At a few minutes past midnight, early on 25 December 1889, the Rangers had a shoot-out with the outlaw brothers. Will Odle died instantly, and Alvin Odle a few minutes later, and there’s not much doubt that Outlaw was the executioner. Captain Jones received a note of thanks from the citizens of both Vance and Barksdale for ridding the area of two of the worst stock thieves and murderers who ever lived.

When Sergeant Charles H. Fusselman died in the Franklin Mountains near El Paso in a battle with Mexican horse thieves a few months later, it was wiry little Corporal Bass Outlaw who became Sergeant Bass Outlaw. Captain Jones needed a second in command at the camp, and although Corporal John Hughes was considered the most capable and trustworthy officer in Company D, it was Corporal Bass Outlaw who had several years priority of service over Hughes. It was Hughes, however, that Captain Jones sent after the killers of Sergeant Fusselman, while Outlaw remained behind to work in the camp. Although Hughes did not find the killers, at least right away, he was so trusted by Captain Jones that he was often the one sent on the difficult scouts to the remotest of areas. It would be ten years before John Hughes could track Sergeant Fusselman’s killers to ground.

While Hughes was off in the El Paso area searching for Fusselman’s killers, Captain Jones moved the camp forty miles east of Marfa to Alpine, and when he was called away for business in El Paso, it left Sergeant Outlaw as acting commanding officer. The moment Captain Jones disappeared, Outlaw journeyed into Alpine to begin drinking. Going straight to the Buckhorn Saloon, he ran into Abe Anglin, an old retired Ranger from Lieutenant N. O. Reynolds’ famous outfit on the San Saba during the Indian fighting days. Outlaw and Anglin got into a card game which lasted far into the night.

As the night wore on, Outlaw lost steadily. He also drank steadily, becoming meaner by the minute. Near midnight, the booty was all on Anglin’s side of the table. When Anglin reached for the money, Outlaw reached for his pistol, claiming he had been robbed. Anglin was unarmed and in no position to argue, but Anglin was also an ex-Ranger, and he was not intimidated by the little Ranger seated across the card table. The quarrel got hot, and the bartender sent for the Sheriff, whose home was no more than a hundred yards away.

James Buchanan Gillett was Sheriff of Alpine at the time. He had come from an illustrious career as a law enforcement officer which had spanned a couple of decades, first as Sergeant in his own Ranger company for six years, then captain of the guards for the Santa Fe, and as city marshal of the wide-open, hell-roaring border town of El Paso, where he had faced down the likes of such gunmen as Dallas Stoudenmire, John Selman, Ben Thompson’s little brother Billy Thompson, and Dave Mather. He was no pistoleer, but he was a highly efficient officer who knew how to handle a Colt just as dazzlingly as the badmen. He had also been along with Captain Jones on the scout for the Southern Pacific train robbers, so he knew all about the Captain’s "little wolf" Bass Outlaw. He walked into the saloon, saw Outlaw and Anglin in a heated argument, and promptly grabbed Outlaw by the shoulder with his left hand, leaving his right free for gunplay. He worked Outlaw toward the door and into the street.

Gillett upbraided Outlaw, pointing out that the little Ranger was in charge of the camp during Captain Jones’ absence and should behave accordingly. He ordered Outlaw back to camp. Outlaw refused to go without a "farewell" drink. He strode back into the saloon, lined up the patrons at the bar, while Gillett, who never drank, watched carefully from the door. When Outlaw pulled a quarter from his pocket to pay for his drink, he dropped it on the floor. Instead of retrieving the money, he kicked the quarter, turned to Gillett and remarked that he didn’t want the money, implying that he though Gillett would shoot him if he bent to retrieve it. It was a direct insult to the Sheriff.

When Captain Jones returned to Alpine, he heard of the incident from a prominent citizen, not from Gillett or Outlaw. He promptly called Outlaw and demanded his resignation from the Ranger service. Outlaw did as he was ordered, and he received a voucher for the pay due him, but when he left, he was furious at Sheriff Gillett, whom he believe had reported his misconduct. An hour later, he was ready to take on Gillett in the streets of Alpine, which, if it had materialized, would probably have left both men dead.

After Outlaw’s enforced resignation, Captain Jones made Corporal John Hughes his new Sergeant. Ex-Ranger Outlaw hung around town for awhile, but when his funds began to run low, he decided to search for the missing $60,000 of the Southern Pacific train holdup. Although Captain Jones and some of his men had tracked and overtaken the robbers between the Pecos River and the town of Ozona, the money had never been recovered. The leader of the bandits had been shot in a running gunfight, and as he lay dying, he wrote his Will, never mentioning the missing money. The others of his gang were captured. They were using Wells-Fargo money sacks to hold their coffee and sugar, but they had little or no money on them. Everyone believed the money lay buried in the canebrake on the Rio Grande. Bass Outlaw meant to have the money.

He went to Sheriff Gillett as if they were old friends and asked to borrow a saddle-gun, since he had sold his own weapons for eating-money. The Sheriff loaned Outlaw one of his treasures, an 1873 model, .44 caliber, Winchester carbine, Number 13401, which had been, at the time Gillett bought it, the finest saddle-gun in the world. Gillett had carried it during his Ranger career. For several months on end, Outlaw stole out of Alpine on his long horseback trips to the canebrake, but he never found anything. It was the hardest work he had done in years. Finally giving up in defeat, he returned Gillett’s treasured gun and took another job…as U. S. Deputy Marshal under U. S. Marshal Richard "Dick" Ware.

Dick Ware was a famous ex-Ranger from Company E, a man written into history as the Ranger who killed Sam Bass, the train robber, at Round Rock in 1878. Ware had been having a shave in the barbershop at the time Sam Bass and three members of his gang decided to rob the bank. Bass, Frank Jackson, and Seaborn Barnes had gone into the general store for tobacco, leaving their horses tied up behind the bank. Upon being recognized by Deputy Sheriff Maurice Moore and Deputy Sheriff Hige Grimes, the outlaws shot and killed Grimes and seriously wounded Moore. Hearing gunfire, Ware raced from the barbershop, still wearing the striped bib around his neck, his face coated with lather, both guns in his hands. He strode toward the three bandits. Seeing him, Bass and his men fired at close range, one of their bullets striking a hitching post within six inches of Ware’s head and knocking splinters into his face. It never halted Ware for a second. He shot Seaborn Barnes square in the forehead and Sam Bass through the chest, putting an end to bandit’s career. Jackson escaped. Sam Bass died the next morning, on 21 July 1878, his twenty-seventh birthday. He was buried in a grave next to Seaborn Barnes in the little Round Rock cemetery.

Now a U. S. Marshal with his seat of operations being El Paso, the worst border town on Earth, Dick Ware hired ex-Ranger Bass Outlaw as his deputy. Outlaw’s reputation as a mean snake was well-known to Ware, but he needed a mean snake in that part of mean Texas. Since it was not unusual for marshals and Rangers to sometimes work together tracking outlaws, after the incident on Pirate Island, Deputy Marshal Bass Outlaw found himself attached to his old pals of Company D as a Special Ranger.

Pirate Island is an island only by definition. It’s located along the river around Ysleta and San Elizario in El Paso County. Back when Mexico and the United States established a boundary line by treaty, it was determined that the line should be the then bed of the Rio Grande River. But in 1854, the river shifted its channel southward, leaving a part of Mexico on the north side of the river. This stretch of land was several miles long and six miles wide between the new bed and the old one, and almost totally covered in brush, affording all sorts of hideouts. Mexican law seldom dared to cross the Rio Grande to this cut-off territory, and Texas authorities had no legal jurisdiction there. It was a true no man’s land occupied by some three hundred Mexican bandits, among them, a set of desperate characters known as the Olguin family.

On 29 June 1893, Captain Jones and five men rode on Pirate Island to arrest Jesus Maria Olguin and his son Severio for cattle rustling. Captain Jones had asked the Governor for fifty Rangers, knowing the assignment to be extremely dangerous, believing a handful of Rangers would all be murdered, but the near-by Ranger companies were on scouts. Of his own company, the main body was at Ysleta, but Sergeant Hughes was still with a handful at Alpine. All Captain Jones really had at his disposal were Corporal Karl Kirschner, Privates F. F. Tucker, Edwin D. Aten, J. Wood Saunders, and Deputy Sheriff R. E. Bryant, who would become a Ranger under the leadership of John Hughes a year later. It was to be Captain Jones’ last ride. Approaching the Olguin encampment, the Rangers found it deserted. Too late, Captain Jones smelled a trap. His men rode through a crackling hail of bullets, and Captain Jones fell, shot through the thigh. As he straightened his broken leg out, he was shot over the heart. Corporal Karl Kirschner’s first thought was to stay with his dead captain, but deeming it foolhardy to remain on Pirate Island among so many bandits, he wisely ordered everyone to San Elizario, where he wired for reinforcements.

When John Hughes learned of the tragedy, he rode to Ysleta and assumed command of the Rangers. It was 2 July before Ranger Bob Ross of El Paso was able to cross over and recover Captain Jones’ body. Several more days passed before Captain Hughes succeeded in recovering most of Captain Jones’ effects, including a Winchester, watch, spurs, belt, and money, but he was never able to recover the Captain’s pistol.

As Captain of Company D, John Hughes had no equal. He was a Ranger longer and a Ranger Captain longer than any other man. He was never whipped in a fight, never lost a prisoner, and rarely failed to capture or kill the criminal. Known up and down the meanest outlaw trails and border towns around El Paso as the "Border Boss," he has been written into history as the role-model writer Fran Striker used for his creation of the famous fictional character of radio, television, books, and movies known as "The Lone Ranger." He had no objection to Deputy Marshal Bass Outlaw operating with his men, but he was not overly fond of the situation.

On 4 April 1894, Dick Ware journeyed to El Paso to attend court. He took with him Outlaw and another deputy marshal Bufe Cline. The trip left Outlaw in a bad humor. There had been a great deal of work to the building up of certain cases which Ware was to present at this term of court, and it had fallen to Cline to do the long and tedious work. Consequently, when it came time to serve the subpoenas and other papers, Ware turned these papers over to Cline. It was customary for the man who had done the preliminary work to receive the fees paid for serving the papers.

Outlaw decided that he had a grievance against Dick Ware because he had been given none of the fee-bearing cases to work up. Ware’s explanations in no way soothed the little gunman. In sulky defiance, Outlaw walked away. On the street, he ran into two old acquaintances, Frank Collinson and Ernest Bridges, and he began to unburden his grievances, claiming Dick Ware’s "favoritism" to Bufe Cline. The two men could tell that Outlaw was about out of control. They thought he was on the verge of going into court to shoot it out with Ware.

In an attempt to dissuade Outlaw, Collinson and Bridges suggested that he go to his room. It apparently reminded the little gunman of his favorite girl down at Tillie Howard’s place on Utah Street. He said he was headed to the sporting district and demanded that the two men go with him. Bridges objected, and Outlaw promptly forced him. At the Bank Saloon, they ran into John Selman, the famous killer who worked as a police constable and who, in the next year, was to shoot John Wesley Hardin in the back of the head. As Outlaw and Bridges set out for Utah Street, Collinson and Selman trailed to see that Outlaw’s savage humor resulted in no damage to Bridges.

When they got to Tillie Howard’s, Outlaw’s favorite girl was apparently occupied with a client. Howard refused to let Outlaw interrupt. Snarling, he stormed through the house, leaving the others in the parlor. Almost immediately, a shot rang out. As Selman went to investigate, Tillie raced to the front, blowing her police whistle. Selman reached the back yard just as Ranger Joe McKidrict and Constable Chavez jumped the fence to investigate the pistol shot and the blasts from the police whistle.

McKidrict had journeyed from Company D’s location at Ysleta to attend court, and he was in the neighborhood of Utah Street by chance. He knew Outlaw was a special ranger, attached to his own Ranger company, and he knew him to be a deputy of Dick Ware’s. In all likelihood, he also knew of Outlaw’s propensity for shooting things when he was drunk. At any rate, he faced Outlaw without alarm. Seeing the little gunman half-drunk and discovering he had been shooting his pistol aimlessly, McKidrict advised Outlaw to "go sleep it off."

Outlaw was in no humor for orders or suggestions. He aimed his pistol and fired, shooting McKidrict through the head. With a snarl on his lips, he put another bullet into the body as it fell. There is no way of knowing how much further Outlaw’s homicidal rage would have propelled him. Selman, a veteran of many such scenes, went for his gun. Outlaw, catching the movement from the corner of his eye, turned and fired. The bullet tore through Selman’s right leg. A second bullet also ripped through the same leg before Selman could fire, catching the little gunman directly above the heart.

Outlaw dropped his gun and staggered to the fence. He had enough adrenaline pumping that he vaulted the fence into the alley, but he only got a block before Ranger Frank McMahan, also from Captain Hughes’ Company D, found him and arrested him. McMahan saw that Outlaw was mortally wounded, and he helped the little wolf into the back room of Barnum’s Saloon at Utah and Overland Streets. Four hours later, Bass Outlaw was dead.

Sheriff James Gillett had once told Outlaw that those who live by the gun, die by the gun. No one mourned the loss of the little wolf, and he was quietly buried in an El Paso cemetery. McKidrict, however, was well-liked by everyone throughout the border country. Captain Hughes ordered his body returned to the Ysleta camp where it lay in state, while hundreds of residents of the community marched slowly past the bier.

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